


Alone. Together.

by inkiestdawn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Just something i wrote, kind of poetic, sensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 22:44:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5351159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkiestdawn/pseuds/inkiestdawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It happens the way natural things do, smoothly, to the rhythm of primordial instincts, countless breaths, immeasurable heartbeats, two bodies with one purpose; or, perhaps, more than one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone. Together.

It happens the way natural things do, smoothly, to the rhythm of primordial instincts, countless breaths, immeasurable heartbeats, two bodies with one purpose; or, perhaps, more than one.

Pleasure, for certain, but the way he looks at you, he’s searching for something more. When his fingers brush against your skin, there’s a jolt, an electric pulse that fires signals in your brain, courses sensations throughout your body. Your skin prickles and snaps with static that charges the air around you.

Like the pull that keeps electrons spinning around a nucleus, the planets around the sun, something in you pulls at something in him and there’s an understanding, a connection that needs no words. You see it in his eyes, the way his lips part and he draws in breath, in awe of it all.

Alone. How can two people be so aware of being alone when they are together? Is it because they feel united, unseparated, that they are- for this moment- a single entity? In the quiet of a room, a safe place that has become a home, you find privacy and solace together. 

You’ve imagined ‘together’ with him. You’ve lain awake at night, on countless nights, and stared off into that in between space of consciousness during the day and thought, and dreamed, and imagined, and breathed and felt what being together with him would be like.

Your proximity to him during the days and nights preceding, hunting hell and nightmares throughout nameless and forgettable places, was not the together you agonized over, yearned for, were tortured by. Proximity does not come close to together.

And now you are. In a space that is made different and new and glorious by this being, every pore, every sense you have draws him in until the lines between you, the details that separate you, become blurred.

His fingertips do much more than touch. As they glide over you in soft caresses, they become creators of sensations and stimulus and experiences that even your most vivid imaginings could not come close to. You’ve watched those fingers take and hold and grab and reach. He’s communicated, fought, and protected with those same fingers and hands. How many memories are passing over you as he touches and caresses you now.

But you’re not thinking of those things, you’re not really thinking at all. Your mind, usually filled with words and plans, facts and figures and lists, things to say and things you wish you could say, is filled with rapture. You are together and he- the he that you have wished and dreamed and hoped and yearned for- is alone with you, touching, kissing, holding, you.

The whole of him becomes narrower, a shade in his eyes that you never noticed before, the smell of his skin, the taste of his mouth. The stubble on his jaw is a complete collection of sensations under your touch and against your face, the sound it the same as the feeling, the look- it makes him look older, harder and, to you, even more attractive.

And his lips. You’ve seen them curve into a smile, turn down in anger and pain and sorrow, form words that have cut through you, leaving scars no one will ever see with his shared memories, hushed a balm that made your heart beat with less agony, filled you with courage, and even, ignited blistering anger. The only time you’ve ever considered his breath was when you feared that it might stop, that it would never draw in again. Now, together, alone, his breath is everything and everywhere. It’s warm on your face and shared through a kiss, soft at first and then rough with passion and need and want, it’s the sound of his pleasure and words of unbelievable passion. His breath travels over your skin through kisses and murmurs, and between your legs , sharp and quick, with every intention on bringing you pleasure and making every cell in your body sing.

Your fingers, your hands and arms, draw him up and close and inside. You stroke and caress him out of his focus and into a shared state of bliss. There are fumbles and missteps, shaking laughter and pauses to look, to ask, to see. The only thing that takes you out of the moment is the pause to witness. You want to bear witness to this alone togetherness and commit it to memory; in a space in your mind that is heavily protected and private, filled with snapshots and words, scents and sounds that bring you joy. It’s the most vulnerable part of you, immaterial and tentative, and yet the most powerful. And so you pause to witness and tuck away the look in his eyes, the feel of his hands, the smell of his sex and skin and breath, and the pleasure and connection of this time together, alone.

There are other variables aside from him and you. There is light, dim and golden, and a bed that creaks and sheets that tangle and bunch, and they will not be forgotten although the details might fade. There will be no commemoration other than in your own mind but how powerful a place can be when it becomes the setting of a moment that is marked as singular. Once you are gone, he will pause at this place and remember. And if you stay, then you will share the memory and there might be a mutual smile and laugh one day as you reminisce.

When your pleasure peaks, he holds you, watches you as you come undone beneath him, because of him. He watches your eyes close, your head tilt, listens as you cry out and murmur his name. He holds you through shockwaves that make your muscles contract and tremble before they soften, his body reacting, pulling him out of his reverent observation to follow you into bliss.

And then everything slows down again, soft edges sharpening into focus; the heat of his body and the slide of his skin against yours, the sound of his breath. Your ear pressed to his chest, you hear and feel the steady, powerful beat of his heart, his chest rising and falling with the pull and release of his breath.

This time won’t last-all things are transient in this world- but in your mind, in that space that only you can know, that only you give power to, it will last forever. Curling into each other, still bonded, you take great appreciation of the moment and, with no thought of what might come, deem it holy. Alone. Together.


End file.
